


Imagine Me And You

by cuttooth



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Aspec Jon, Aspec Martin, Canon Asexual Character, First Time, Gender fluid Jon, M/M, Sex curious asexual characters, Spin-off fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:48:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23232733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuttooth/pseuds/cuttooth
Summary: “All right,” Martin says, “What is it?”Jon darts a quick glance at him, then looks away again, biting his lip. He becomes engrossed with scratching between Lady’s ears as she bats at the braid hanging over his shoulder.“Jon,” Martin says firmly. He’s okay with Jon being grumpy or antisocial sometimes, that’s just part of who he is, but he doesn’t want Jon to hide what’s bothering him. That’s not whotheyare. Jon gives a deep sigh and looks at him.“Should we be having sex?”*Martin and Jon consider a new aspect to their relationship. Inspired by “The Spider’s Child” by fatal_drum.
Relationships: Background Georgie Barker/Melanie King - Relationship, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Mention of Lonely Eyes
Comments: 49
Kudos: 469





	Imagine Me And You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fatal_drum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatal_drum/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Spider's Child](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20184184) by [fatal_drum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatal_drum/pseuds/fatal_drum). 



> This is a spin-off from one of my favorite fics, by the hugely talented [fatal_drum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatal_drum), who not only gave me permission to play in their wonderful sandbox, but was also kind enough to beta the result. If you haven’t read the original fic, I can’t recommend it enough!
> 
> Title from “Happy Together” by The Turtles, because Jon and Martin invented love.
> 
> **Additional Warnings:**  
>  • Unintentional casual aphobia; assumption that two people in a relationship must be having sex.  
> • Brief internalized aphobia related to the above.  
> 

It starts when Georgie gets a girlfriend.

Melanie King is smart and opinionated and has a YouTube channel with videos of her investigating alleged hauntings, which has over five thousand subscribers. (“Is that a lot?” Martin asks Gerry; he shrugs.) Melanie studies media at King’s College, and has a lot to say about the democratization of research publication in the digital age as well as the shortcomings of dusty academic institutions (as she describes them) that try to control access to information.

She and Jon loathe each other instantly. 

It’s kind of funny, in a way, because it’s clear just how similar the two of them are: they’re both stubborn and prone to speaking their mind, unwilling to ever back down over something they’re passionate about. They share a fascination with the supernatural, which might have brought them together if they weren’t both so dismissive of the other’s approach. 

The first time they meet, Melanie tells them about an apparition she saw in an abandoned hospital, which she’s entirely sure was a Victorian era ghost. She is, Martin will admit, being a little bit obnoxious about it, talking about how _academic monoliths_ (she doesn’t mention the Magnus Institute by name, though it’s clearly implied) know nothing about proper fieldwork, and how it’s up to the new wave of independent researchers to expose the truth. Jon shifts in his seat as she talks, growing more and more restless until he finally blurts out:

“That wasn’t a ghost, it was the Twisting Deceit! It’s obvious.”

“I don’t know what this...Twisting Deceit thing is,” Melanie retorts, and Jon rolls his eyes. “But what makes you so bloody sure of yourself?”

“For one thing, it was a pretty standard Spiral manifestation: confusion, hallucination, doubting what’s real. And for another thing, there’s no such thing as ghosts. Everyone knows that.”

Melanie takes a deep breath, color rising in her cheeks, and things go downhill from there. 

So it’s kind of funny, but also really _not,_ because Georgie has been Jon’s friend for a long time, and she - understandably - now wants to spend a lot of her time with her new girlfriend. And since Jon and Melanie aren’t doing a great job of being in the same room together, that means less time she’s spending with the rest of them. They still see her at home, in the large flat they share along with Gerry, but more often than not these days she’s on her way out to see Melanie, coming home late if at all.

It makes Jon grumpy and resentful, and Martin thinks he understands why. Jon severed ties with the Web for good reason, but they were still his family, and ever since then he’s been anxious about holding onto the people around him, as if he’s afraid he’s going to be left alone. 

Martin gets it; he’s been in the Lonely, and he’ll never forget that feeling of total abandonment. 

He does his best to make Jon feel loved and wanted, which isn’t exactly a chore. Jon responds to affection like a cat, pretending not to want it at all before melting into it with absolute abandon, and Martin gets great satisfaction from coaxing Jon into a boneless puddle, his head in Martin’s lap while Martin’s fingers comb through his long, gorgeous hair. Despite Martin’s best efforts, however, Jon is feeling Georgie’s absence, and he’s not quiet about it.

“It’s not fair,” Jon bemoans one Friday evening, folding his arms on the table and sinking his face into them. They’re in the Thistle, which is the closest pub to the Magnus Institute and a favored haunt of its employees. Martin’s been at the Institute helping out for the day, since he doesn’t have any lectures on Fridays and Elias still likes him to keep his hand in; Tim and Sasha, who work in the Research department with Jon, invited both of them along for after work drinks. 

“There, there,” Martin soothes, resting a comforting hand between Jon’s shoulder blades. The strappy shift he’s wearing leaves his upper back bare, and his skin is warm and soft beneath Martin’s palm. 

“What’s not fair?” Sasha asks, taking a sip of her mojito; she’d recommended the drink to Martin as well, and he thinks he might never drink anything else again. 

“What does Georgie even need a girlfriend for, honestly? What can she do with her that she can’t do with her friends?”

Tim snorts with laughter while taking a sip of his Guinness and ends up choking, thumping his chest to clear his throat. 

“You know,” he says when he’s recovered, his eyes a little watery. “There are some things you can do with a girlfriend that you can’t do with your friends. Well, unless you’re lucky enough to have open minded friends.”

“Like what?” Jon challenges, his jaw set fiercely. Tim shrugs.

“Like sex?” he says. “Come on, Jon, you’ve got a boyfriend, haven’t you?” 

Jon goes beet red and takes a long gulp of his ginger ale, and doesn’t talk much for the rest of the evening. 

That night they’re getting ready for bed, or rather Martin is getting ready while Jon hunches cross-legged on the bed, holding Her Ladyship in his arms and petting her aggressively. The cat doesn’t seem to mind the attention, pushing up into Jon’s hands, but Martin can tell something’s bothering him. He barely said a word on their way home from the pub, and he’s been avoiding Martin’s gaze in a way that seems almost guilty. 

“All right,” Martin says, “What is it?”

Jon darts a quick glance at him, then looks away again, biting his lip. He becomes engrossed with scratching between Lady’s ears as she bats at the braid hanging over his shoulder. 

“Jon,” Martin says firmly. He’s okay with Jon being grumpy or antisocial sometimes, that’s just part of who he is, but he doesn’t want Jon to hide what’s bothering him. That’s not who _they_ are. Jon gives a deep sigh and looks at him. 

“Should we be having sex?”

“What?” Martin startles; he’s not exactly shocked by the words, but it’s honestly the last thing he had expected to be bothering Jon. Jon squares his jaw again, the way he did earlier when he was talking to Tim, the way that says he’s a bit afraid of being made fun of, but determined to push ahead anyway. 

“You heard what Tim said. People have sex with their boyfriends and girlfriends. That’s what sets them apart from friends. So.” 

Martin doesn’t know what to say. He’s never given the subject much thought, as it applies to him and Jon; he hadn’t really paid much attention when Tim said all that earlier. Yes, he knows that people who are in relationships generally have sex, and he’s not exactly _averse_ to the idea, but he’s never been particularly interested either. He’d kind of assumed that Jon would bring it up if it was something he wanted, and he hadn’t, so Martin hadn’t either. It’s never been a problem before, but now apparently it is, and Martin can’t think of what to say. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. 

“I’m sorry,” Jon says, in lieu of Martin saying anything. “I just never really thought about it. I - I don’t know how to do anything properly, I suppose.” He sounds thoroughly miserable, and now he’s picking at an imaginary bobble on the fabric of his leggings, not looking at Martin again, and Martin’s stomach drops like a stone.

“Jon…” he says, and goes to his knees in front of him. He rests his hands on Jon’s thighs and squeezes gently. “I love you. You know that, right?”

“...yes,” Jon says in a small voice. Martin squeezes again. 

“My loving you doesn’t have anything to do with whether we have sex. Okay? If you want to do that, then we can try it. But really, honestly, I’m not bothered. I never brought it up either, did I?”

“...no.” 

“Because it’s not important. I love you, Jon. You’re my best friend and my boyfriend, and I love you.” 

Jon stops picking at his leggings and at last his head raises to look at Martin. His eyes are red rimmed but dry, and he has a tentative smile on his face.

“I love you, too,” he says. Martin feels a great swell of relief rush through him, and then Jon is pushing into his arms, warm and insistent. Her Ladyship vacates Jon’s lap with an affronted yowl and the two of them cling together. Martin presses kisses into the soft mass of Jon’s hair, and feels Jon’s hands curling into the neck of his jumper, stroking at the skin along his hairline. 

They don’t talk about it any further that night. Despite the reassurance, Jon’s still a bit upset, and Martin’s feeling uncertain about the whole thing himself. He can’t speak for Jon, but he could do with some time to absorb the idea and decide how he feels about it.

Thing is, Jon’s the only person Martin’s ever wanted. Okay, he didn’t have a lot of opportunity for that sort of thing growing up, but even when he first came to London he hadn’t really considered it; he’d been shocked when Elias asked about "the nature of your relationship with Gerard Keay”. He’d even wondered for a while if maybe he _did_ like Gerry in that way, and he just didn’t recognize what it was supposed to feel like. After some serious thought, however, he’d concluded that while Gerry was fantastic, Martin was happy being his friend. 

And then Jon had appeared, like a long-forgotten dream come to life, and Martin couldn’t ignore how his heart raced every time he saw him. Every detail of Jon enthralled him: the emotions that flitted openly across his face from moment to moment; the expressive twist of his hands as he explained some concept or other; the low, lovely sound of his voice. It hadn’t taken him long to realize what he felt for Jon, and it was surprisingly easy to put a name to it.

_“I love you, you know,”_ he’d told Jon for the first time when he thought he was going to lose him forever, and he’s said it every day since. 

This, though, is a whole new thing to consider. 

Does he want to have sex with Jon? He loves looking at Jon, loves touching him, being close to him, but it’s never occurred to him to want to rip Jon’s clothes off and...well, _that._ Martin wishes there was someone he could ask for advice, someone who knows about these things.

His parents aren’t an option, much as he loves them. Elias’ idea of sex education was to hand Martin a book on the subject when he was ten years old. There were a lot of labeled diagrams, and helpful sticky notes in Elias’ handwriting appended throughout, and Martin had come out of the whole thing with a thorough understanding of the mechanics of sex, and the vague feeling that it was rather a lot of fuss about nothing. Then a few months later Papa had sat him down for what he’d claimed was going to be The Talk, but which had ended up as a long, rambling story full of metaphors about whales and lighthouses. Which was interesting, but not exactly enlightening.

He could talk to Gerry, maybe, or Georgie, but they’re Jon’s friends too and it would feel like going behind his back. In desperation, Martin finds himself googling _how to know if you want to have sex._ The results talk a lot about not being pressured into it and waiting until you find the right person. Which is all well and good, except Martin _knows_ he’s found the right person, and he’s still not sure whether he wants to. 

After two days he’s no closer to figuring out exactly what he’s feeling about it. When he thinks about having sex with Jon, he gets butterflies in his stomach, and he’s not sure if it’s anxiety or excitement. He’s become hyper-aware of Jon, the physicality of him, and he finds himself jumping at every little brush of skin on skin that he would hardly have noticed before. 

It comes to a head on the second evening after their conversation, when Jon walks up behind him in the kitchen and leans against his shoulder, and Martin startles so violently at the contact that he spills his tea. He mops it up with a wad of kitchen roll, and looks up to find Jon frowning at him. 

“You don’t want me to touch you.”

“What? That’s not true!”

“You’ve been flinching every time I come near you, ever since I asked if you wanted to have sex.” There’s a hurt look in his eyes. 

“That’s - ” Martin sighs. “All right, fine. I’m sorry. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I suppose I’m...a bit nervous?” 

“We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.” 

“What about you, Jon?” Martin asks. “You keep asking if I want to and saying we should, but do you want to?”

“I don’t know,” Jon shrugs. “I just thought we’d try it, and if either of us doesn’t like it, we wouldn’t do it again. Like that time you made me try sashimi.” His nose wrinkles adorably at the memory, and Martin laughs.

Jon’s entirely right, he realizes; sex doesn’t have to be some momentous, life changing event. It can just be something for them to try together. If they don’t like it, they won’t do it again. Simple as that. Martin is suddenly feeling a whole lot better. He reaches for Jon, who slips easily into his arms. 

“Sorry I’ve been a bit...weird.”

“You’re always a bit weird,” Jon tells him. “I like you that way. Should we do it tonight?”

“Oh,” Martin says, his heart thumping hard. “Yeah - yes, all right. Let’s try it.”

Georgie is at Melanie’s tonight, and Gerry’s out seeing a band, so there’ll be nobody else home for hours. Martin feels an anxious thrill as he brushes his teeth in the bathroom; they’re actually going to have sex. He’s a bit terrified, if he’s honest, his hands trembling. Jon is sitting on the edge of the bed when he walks into the bedroom, his legs crossed demurely at the ankles. Martin goes and sits beside him, and Jon’s hands come up to frame his face. He pulls Martin in and kisses him carefully. 

“I love you,” Jon tells him solemnly, and leans in again. They kiss for a while, soft and careful, and it’s lovely, sending warmth curling in Martin’s chest. Then Jon stands up and, without ceremony, pulls his t-shirt off over his head and shimmies out of his long skirt so it pools on the floor around his feet. He isn’t wearing anything underneath. 

Martin stares. He’s seen Jon in bits and pieces before this: the sharp wing of his shoulders under the straps of a tank top; his long legs with the hem of a summer dress swishing around his thighs; even his bare chest when he comes out of the shower in a towel, but he’s never put all those disparate pieces together before. Jon is gorgeous, all graceful lines, with faded scars scattered across his pale skin where he once cut himself free of the Web.

And of course there’s his - well, his cock, nestled in a neat thatch of red hair. 

“Okay?” Jon asks, frowning a little, and Martin realizes he hasn’t said anything in quite a while. He swallows hard and nods; his heart is pounding.

“Yeah,” he says. “Just...looking.” 

“Are you going to take your clothes off as well?” 

“Right, of course.” Martin starts undressing, a little self-consciously. He hesitates when he gets down to his pants - he hasn’t been completely naked in front of another person since he was old enough to bathe himself - and then pulls them off quickly. Jon gives him an odd, tilted smile, and Martin feels his face heat. 

“All right?”

“Just looking,” Jon says, teasing. His eyes roam over Martin, who resists the urge to curl up and hide himself, and he holds out a hand. “Come here.”

Martin does, his pulse racing, and then all of Jon’s warm, bare skin is pressed against all of his, and they’re kissing again, more urgently this time. 

Martin feels hot all over. His clumsy fingers tug at the claw clip that’s holding Jon’s hair piled on top of his head, releasing the thick waves to fall around them both. Jon’s hands are petting over his back and sides, and he’s making soft sounds into Martin’s mouth as they kiss, little sighs and moans that send shivers down Martin’s spine. He lets his own hands wander down across Jon’s shoulder blades, the curve of his back, to the sharp jut of his hips, all that warm, soft skin under his palms and Jon pressing eagerly into him, and he can feel that he’s starting to get hard. It would be embarrassing if he couldn’t already feel Jon’s cock poking against his upper thigh. The realization sends a little thrill through him: Jon is hard for him, _because_ of him. He breaks the kiss for a moment to say:

“Let’s lie down, yeah?”

Jon nods, and they shuffle awkwardly over to the bed, neither of them willing to stop touching the other. They manage to lie down side by side, and like this it’s easier; their height difference disappears and Martin can just pull Jon into his arms and kiss him. He feels shaky and overwhelmed, his skin burning everywhere Jon touches him. Daring, he reaches down and takes hold of Jon’s cock, and Jon moans loudly, his hips thrusting forward. 

“Is this good?” Martin asks, sliding his hand up and down, and Jon nods frantically. 

“Very good,” he gasps, and then his fingers are wrapping around Martin’s erection and Martin can’t breathe. Jon’s hand moves and it's more than good, it's perfect, amazing, Martin never wants him to stop. Jon’s face is flushed, his lips parted, a little furrow of concentration between his eyebrows; he looks beautiful, and Martin wants to see more, wants to see what he looks like when he comes. He keeps stroking Jon while Jon strokes him, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in his abdomen until his hips are rocking forward into Jon’s touch, both their hands moving clumsily, frantically, racing towards release. 

“I love you,” Martin moans as he feels himself hit the tipping point, the coil springing loose in his belly and hot sensation pouring through him as he comes over Jon’s hand. Jon makes a sound like a whine and pushes closer to him, and Martin strokes him hard and fast, his other hand tangled in the mass of Jon’s hair, until Jon cries out and comes as well. Martin caresses him through it, Jon’s body trembling against his, and then they lie there together, breathing hard, clinging to each other. Jon is the first to move, shifting up to press a soft kiss to Martin’s lips. 

“That was interesting,” he says, then makes a face, glancing down at where they’re both sticky and spattered. “And messy. I need a shower.”

He’s up and away at that, grabbing a towel and heading for the bathroom. After a few moments, Martin hears the shower come on, and he gets up and grabs a wad of tissues to clean up the worst of the mess, including the wet spot on the duvet. He feels equal parts elated and drained. 

It was...good, though? He thinks so, anyway. It seems as if Jon enjoyed it as well - it’s usually a good sign when he calls something "interesting:. It certainly didn’t change the world, though. Martin wouldn’t mind doing it again, but if Jon doesn’t want to he won’t be bothered. _Just like sashimi,_ he thinks happily, and he’s still thinking about it a few minutes later, when Jon walks in wrapped in a towel and flops down on the bed.

“You should shower as well,” Jon commands before he can say anything. “You’re sweaty. Then come back.”

There’s not much Martin can say to that, so he goes and takes a quick shower. When he gets back, Jon pulls him down onto the bed and curls up against him, wrapping strong, thin arms around him. 

“Well,” Martin asks carefully, “What do you think?”

“I liked it,” Jon says, frowning thoughtfully. “How about you?”

“Yeah,” says Martin. “It was nice.” There was something appealing about the intimacy of it; letting Jon see and touch the most vulnerable parts of him; seeing and touching Jon in return; being the one to make him fall apart, coaxing sounds from his lips that were only for Martin. 

“Good,” says Jon, nodding with satisfaction. “I think we can call that a successful trial run.”

Martin laughs at that, and pulls Jon even closer, until there’s nothing but skin between them. A successful trial run, indeed. Now, if they could only get the situation with Jon and Melanie sorted out, things would be better than ever. 

It’s Gerry who manages it in the end, with his usual blunt approach to problem solving. The three of them are watching telly a couple of nights later, Gerry taking up one end of the sofa and Jon curled into a ball against Martin’s side at the other. Usually the four of them watch Bake-Off, but Georgie is out with Melanie, and Jon is sulking so loud it’s practically audible. He’s not even making cutting remarks about the contestants’ technique, which is normally his favorite thing to do. 

Halfway through the meringue judging, Gerry gives a deep, dramatic sigh, and turns to him.

“Look, Jon,” he says, “Georgie’s your friend, right? And you want her to be happy? And you want to be able to hang out with her? Well, Melanie’s part of that now, so you’re just going to have to figure out how to get along with her. Simple as that.”

“I suppose,” Jon says sullenly, sunk into the couch cushions. Gerry reaches across to ruffle his hair and Jon scowls.

“Melanie doesn’t know about the Fears and all that stuff,” he says. “And it’s good for Georgie to have someone like that, who’s not part of it. Just...try to remember that, when you’re talking to her.”

The next day, Jon sends a group text suggesting they all go out for a drink, and that Georgie should bring Melanie. She seems a little surprised, but agrees readily enough. 

They meet at the Thistle, and Martin sits by Jon and squeezes his knee when Melanie says something ridiculous about poltergeists - _she doesn’t know, remember?_ Georgie chimes in to say that Jon and Gerry both work at the Magnus Institute and know an awful lot about the supernatural, actually, and that they do very good work following up with the people who report incidents to them. Melanie seems skeptical, but clearly Georgie’s had a word with her too, so she doesn’t say anything snide about _academic monoliths_ and even asks their opinion on a location she wants to check out for a video. 

It’s nice, and very close to friendly, and when they take the Tube home Jon snuggles up against Martin’s side, clearly content with how the evening went. 

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Martin asks, and Jon hums quietly in assent. He kisses Martin’s cheek, then his jaw, then nuzzles against his neck. 

“Do you want to have sex again tonight?” 

“Oh, umm, maybe not tonight?” Martin says. “I’m a bit tired.”

“Okay then,” Jon says, unconcerned. “Then we’ll let Her Ladyship sleep with us tonight, and maybe we can have sex tomorrow? I’ve been researching, and there are some things I want to try.”

So apparently this is going to be a thing now, which Martin should have expected; once Jon gets an idea in his head, it tends to stick around. Particularly if there’s research involved. Not that he’s complaining, he thinks, feeling the slight weight of Jon’s body resting against his shoulder, and remembering the warmth of Jon’s bare skin pressed against his the other night. Not complaining at all.

“Sounds good,” he says, and pulls Jon closer. As long as it’s the two of them together, anything sounds good. 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr [@cuttoothed](https://cuttoothed.tumblr.com/)


End file.
